


mi pequena estrella

by xdkk0609



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6832129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xdkk0609/pseuds/xdkk0609
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a random fanfic that came up to me after seeing this http://thegilgamesh.tumblr.com/post/144173106643/soldier-76-cant-take-a-nap-in-peace</p>
            </blockquote>





	mi pequena estrella

 

 

 

There lied a dirty dish in the sink. Stains floating on the water surface which drowned his plate. How many days had it been there? Two? Perhaps three? Morrison couldn’t recall, nor did he want to. The least he preferred to do as the first affair of entering his place after so much, was to stare at the dirty dishes that were undone.

 

His visor off in hand, Morrison turned to sank himself into the sofa. It was the one and only furniture he had. Aged and ragged. He picked it back somewhere near the apartment because it was not fully worn out, and he needed something to nap on when he cannot go straight to bed. He guessed he was no longer young. Every now and then, somewhere in his mind grew weary of the endless war he had to fight.  

 

Morrison let out a low sigh that bordered a frustrated groan.

 

Nothing was good these days. The fights. The casualties. The world. The instability that soared from darkness, that overwhelmed the innocence, and also the ones who bear their responsibilities. Everyone was confused. Everything was chaotic.

 

_Overwatch, Blackwatch, The Talon_ _…_

 

The skin under where the visor fitted was swelling in a redden manner due to the restless long hours. Green and purple veins threatened to push out to the surface, painted his eyelids with fatigue. Eyes dried. The only thing he managed was closing them. He would have craved for more relief if his arms were not sore and aching with wounds.

 

He didn’t have much time though. The first glance of sun was already dousing the sky out the window. A slight glimpse of wind peeked through his curtain. He should have the windows shut for security, but he was lingering on the edge of falling asleep.

 

He was too tired. The urge to fall into the well of a comforting darkness was calling all over his head. Still he felt, the breeze brushed across his cheek, like a gentle kiss granted quietly and never wished to be found out.

 

Morrison had his heed leaving him further. He felt less of his pain. At the end of his consciousness, he thought he heard a ghostly mutter.

 

_So vulnerable_ _…_

 

He tried, to follow the voice, but failed. Usually Morrison would have been woken up by any noise. But he did not, for somehow that was the tenderest whisper he had ever heard. It was unspeakably intimate, as if it was from an old friend. And it was that, finally drained all his strength to resist the weariness. He was at last in his dreamless sleep.

 

In an hour or so, he would have to wake up and devote himself again into saving the world. But for now, he would rest.

 

 

 


End file.
